Mistakes Made, Lessons Learned
by Dru Ennis
Summary: When Starsky is injured at the hands of Hutch's Little Brother; everyone learns valuable lessons. And the partners watch Kiko and his friends grow up fast.


Mistakes Made, Lessons Learned  
By Dru Ennis  
(Formerly published under another pen-name. Recently re-edited)

Things were winding down for the day in the Metro squad room. The day had been pretty uneventful, pretty routine. Hutch entered the office as Starsky was putting the finishing touches on a report he'd been slaving over for most of the afternoon - the results of a really good drug bust that morning. Both were feeling pretty good about the success of the sting.

"Almost finished?" asked Hutch.

"Just about. God, I hate typing and I hate reports."

_Okay, he's cranky. Maybe this is not a good time to ask, _thought Hutch._ But maybe for this, there would never be a good time._

Hutch sat down at his desk, which faced his partner's and nervously fidgeted for a few minutes before asking for the favor he'd had in mind.

"Hey Starsk, you have any plans for tonight?" Hutch asked rather tentatively.

Starsky glanced up from his typing to meet his partner's stare. A look of forced innocence and conspiracy loomed in Hutch's light blue eyes. The brown-haired detective answered cautiously, "I was going to pick up a burger to go at The Pits, go home, and watch the Laurel and Hardy marathon. Why?"

"I got tickets to the Dodgers game. Wanna' go?" asked Hutch hopefully.

"How many tickets?" Starsky cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Okay, okay, six! I'm taking Kiko and a couple of his friends. You like Kiko. C'mon Starsk, it'll be fun. Just a guys' night out."

"Of course I like Kiko, but I think some of his friends will end up having an ongoing relationship with us in the future. And I don't mean as pals."

"So, don't you think it's important that we spend time with them then? Maybe if they see that every man in their life is not going to run out on them and that there is nothing wrong with being one of the 'good guys'. Don't you think that's important?" Hutch grinned slightly, knowing he had him with that one. Hutch always knew how to push his partner's buttons, and with Starsky's early tough 'street life,' social responsibility was a hot button for him.

"That's not fair!" Starsky protested.

Hutch stood up, pulled on his jacket and walked toward the door. "I knew you'd see it my way. Be at my house at 6:00 for pre-game pizza."

"Anchovies!" Starsky shouted as Hutch went out the door. After Hutch was out of sight the curly-haired detective nodded, mumbling to himself, "David Starsky, welcome to the Hutchinson Lollipop Guild - you are the biggest sucker on the face of the earth."

Hutch hurried Kiko through the door of his Venice Place apartment. "What time are the guys supposed to be here," he asked, as he pulled his jacket and holster off, hanging them in their usual place on the closet door.

"I told them 6:00."

"Yeah, Starsky will be here about that time too. I need to run out and get the pizza. Why don't you wait here in case your buddies show up a little early? You can set the table too, if you like."

Kiko nodded in agreement. "Hutch?"

"Yeah, pal?"

"Thanks for the game," Kiko smiled sheepishly. "I've really been excited about it." Hutch moved over to his 'Little Brother' wrapping his arms around him in an embrace.

"Me too, buddy." Giving Kiko a final squeeze on the shoulder, Hutch turned toward the door to leave, "Nothing but the best for my little brother." Hutch left, closing the door behind him.

Kiko went about setting the table for dinner when there was a knock at the door. Opening the door, he greeted his three friends. "Hey guys! Just in time. Hutch just left to get the pizza." The three boys entered the apartment. They were about Kiko's age of 12, but looked much tougher than Hutch's mild-mannered little brother.

"I don't know about this," groaned Freddy, a tall kid with unruly blond hair. "Going to a ball game with a cop?"

"Actually two," beamed Kiko. "Hutch is bringing his partner."

"Aw man, how is that going to look?" moaned Mike. Mike was probably a bit older than Kiko or maybe just looked a lot older, with dark hair and dark brown eyes,

"They're cool! You'll see!"

Kiko's other friend, Sam, a taller boy with auburn hair was mesmerized at what he saw hanging on the closet door. Sam reached up and pulled the Magnum from its holster. "Wow! Check this out, a .357 Magnum. Just like in the movies!" Kiko, Freddy, and Mike turned to see Sam holding Hutch's gun.

"No, Sam, don't do that! Hutch'll get mad," Kiko pleaded.

"Hutch ain't here!"

"If you want to see it, then let me hold it!" Kiko said insistently, taking the large revolver from Sam. "I've been to the firing range with Hutch before. He showed me how to hold it safely. And he actually let me fire it once."

Freddy looked around nervously, "Hey, what if he comes back?"

"Let's go into the bedroom!" Mike suggested, as the four disappeared into the room further back in the apartment.

Starsky pulled the Torino up in front of Venice Place, his second home. Hutch had been living there for a while now, and his partner loved its proximity to the beach. Getting out of the car, he glanced around, noticing that Hutch's car was nowhere to be seen. No problem. The partners had long ago exchanged keys for such emergencies.

Starsky trotted up the stairs and let himself into the apartment. "Anyone here?" he called out. Receiving no answer, he plopped down on the couch for a wait. After a few moments of silence, Starsky noticed some hushed laughter and giggling coming from the bedroom. One voice he recognized, as Kiko's the others, he surmised, his friends.

With a mischievous smirk on his face, Starsky got up and headed toward the bedroom.

_This'll be good; I'll scare the crap out of them!_

Starsky moved quietly into the bedroom, glancing around and seeing no one. Another gale of laughter came from the walk-in closet. With a knowing and playful look on his face, Starsky moved quietly toward the closet door. Ever so quietly he grasped the doorknob. Taking a deep breath Starsky jerked the closet door open and yelled, "Police, freeze!"

The boys swung around in a start, and the Magnum exploded in Kiko's hand, the recoil sending Kiko back into his friends. The boys watched in horror as Starsky was thrown back by the impact of the bullet.

Everything the boys witnessed became slow and vivid in their minds.

The flash.

The smoke.

The blood spray.

Starsky's painful cry.

The shock and pain etched on his face.

It seemed like it took an eternity for Starsky's body to come to rest on the floor next to Hutch's bed.

The room became deathly quiet. The stunned boys didn't move for a few seconds. Suddenly reality kicked in.

"Kiko, you shot him! You shot a cop!" exclaimed Freddy. "Aw, man!"

"Starsky? Starsky, say something!" Kiko pleaded as his eyes instantly filled with tears. The four boys stood there in shock. They watched the ever-growing pool of blood soaking through the front of Starsky's dark blue turtleneck, and his painful gasps for air.

"Let's get out of here!" shouted Mike. "C'mon Kiko, let's get out of here!" The three friends bolted for the front door leaving Kiko standing there watching his Big Brother's best friend die.

Still in shock and grasping the grip of the Magnum, Kiko slowly walked up to where Starsky lay. The dark-haired detective's chest heaved with painful, difficult breaths. The blood still flowed freely.

Kiko looked down at the blood-splattered face that had so often been there for him along with Hutch. Blood now began to seep from Starsky's mouth as well. There was a look of disbelief on Starsky's face. Only semi-conscious, he gasped, "Kiko, help me, please. G-Get Hutch!"

Everything went black as Starsky lost consciousness, his head gently rolling away from Kiko.

"Starsky? Starsky! Oh no," Kiko whispered tearfully.

Kiko backed toward the bedroom door, not taking his eyes off of the critically wounded man. The revolver still grasped tightly in his hand, he backed into the living room. Panic and hysteria began to take over where reason should have been as the revolver slipped from his hand and hit the floor.

Kiko turned and rushed the door, leaving it wide open in his hurry to get out; to escape to anywhere - anywhere but there.

It wasn't but a few minutes before Hutch returned with two large pizzas - one with anchovies for his finicky partner. When Hutch got to the top of the stairs he instantly noticed the eerie quiet, and the wide open door. He knew that at least Kiko and Starsky were here. He'd seen the Torino on the way in.

Hutch cautiously moved into the living room.

"Hey! Where is everyone? Kiko? Starsk?" There was no answer.

The gleaming barrel of his gun laying on the floor caught his eye, as a look of surprise and confusion overtook him.

"Starsky? Kiko?" He squatted next to the gun on the floor and reached for it jerking his hand back as the cop in him told him not to touch it.

Hutch laid the pizza boxes on a nearby end table and stood up glancing into the kitchen. His glance shifted toward the bedroom door. There was nothing on the bed, but as his eyes shifted downward he could see a motionless, blood-stained hand lying on the floor near the foot of his bed, on the little finger of that hand, the rings that Hutch knew so well. Hutch's eyes widened with realization.

Moving swiftly toward the room, he stopped in his tracks. "Oh my God, no."

He saw his partner lying deathly still on the floor, covered in his own blood. "Starsk!" Hutch dropped next to his injured friend. "Starsk?" He gently touched Starsky's throat looking for a pulse. There, but very faint. Hutch quickly picked up the phone on the night table and dialed the station.

"This is Hutchinson, I need a black and white and paramedics at 1027 1/2 Ocean immediately. Please hurry! My partner's been shot. That's right, there's an officer down!"

Officer down – were two words that invoked terror in the hearts of any police officer or paramedic. He knew they would be there quickly.

_Oh God, hurry!_

Hanging up the phone, Hutch dashed into the bathroom returning with an armload of towels and a blanket. He dropped to his knees again and began what first aid he could. He gently tucked a rolled towel beneath the back of his partner's neck - tilting his head back to try and open his airway. He pulled the tail of Starsky's shirt from his jeans and pushed it up his partner's stomach and chest as far as he could to get to the wound - or wounds.

Hutch was almost overcome by the sight and smell of all of the blood pulsing from his partner's body - and the size of the wound left by the Magnum - his Magnum.

He pressed a towel firmly against the wound to try and slow the bleeding. Leaning closely in to his friend's face he gently touched his cheek and whispered.

"Starsk … please buddy, please wake up. Starsky, open your eyes for me!"

Starsky's dark blue eyes slowly opened to a slit. There was a great deal of pain and fear in those eyes. He tried to speak - his voice very weak. "Hutch … scared … can't breathe."

"Stay with me, pal. Please stay with me. Help's on the way!" Hutch pleaded. By now they could hear sirens approaching. "Hear that? Help's coming."

A pain-filled tear rolled down the wounded man's cheek. His voice raspy, "Kiko … so afraid!" Hutch adjusted the towel on Starsky's chest.

"Starsk, who did this to you?"

Starsky's breathing became labored again. He gasped, "Hutch." He fell again into darkness.

Hutch could hear feet coming up the stairs, and a voice yelling, "Sergeant Hutchinson?"

"In here!"

Two uniformed officers rushed into the bedroom, one of them, Jim Taylor exclaiming, "Oh, sweet Jesus!" Two paramedics and a fireman followed. The paramedics nudged Hutch aside to get to his partner.

"Hutch, what the hell happened?" asked Taylor, placing a hand on the blond detective's shoulder.

"I don't know. I just found him like that." He shook in fear as he looked down at his hands covered in blood - his partner's blood - the blood of the best friend he'd ever had. Hutch noticed that the paramedics instantly lifted Starsky onto the stretcher, and began to strap him in.

"We gotta' get going. We'll have to try to stabilize him on the way; he's bleeding out. Let's go!"

The paramedics and the fireman grabbed the stretcher and began to run, with Hutch in tow.

"Sergeant Hutchinson, you can't leave! We need you here!" shouted the other patrolman.

"Stuff it!" retorted Hutch, as he kept on the trail of the paramedics.

Taylor turned to his partner, "Secure the scene, I'll call for a detective team. We'll get them to talk to Hutch. Better call Captain Dobey, too, he'll want to know." The partner nodded - both understood the relationship between partners - especially these two.

The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. Hutch sat in the back jump seat watching the paramedics work feverishly to save his friend. They intubated him; they started blood.

For the life of him, Hutch could not remember Starsky's blood type.

"We'll have to settle for O neg," said one of the paramedics. "He should be okay with that until we can type him, anyway."

Too much confusion.

Too much fear.

Way too much blood.

The ambulance moving at unheard of speeds.

He heard one paramedic mumble, "Pressure's falling."

The other responded, "Everything is wide open."

Hutch could feel his eyes tearing.

_Oh God, Starsk, what happened? Who shot you? Where's Kiko?_

Hutch began to hyperventilate and was becoming dizzy.

_Please God, don't let him die._

At the hospital, Hutch moved quickly behind the paramedics as they rushed his partner into a trauma room. He stood shrunken in a corner of the room watching the paramedics, the doctors, and nurses, and listening to the trauma room banter.

"Thirty-three-year-old male … gunshot wound to the chest … massive blood loss."

"Name's David Starsky."

"Police detective."

"Someone cut his clothes off!"

"Looks like a .357."

"Fuckin' mess!"

Hutch strained to catch a glimpse of Starsky's face, wondering if he'd regained consciousness. A doctor glancing up from his work on Starsky spotted the pale detective in the corner, "Hey, who the hell are you?"

Hutch numbly flashed his badge. "Sergeant Hutchinson, David's partner."

The doctor acknowledged with a small nod that Hutch could stay. Hutch stood helpless, listening to the trauma room exchange.

"Pressure's dropping again and he's still bleeding out. Hang another unit, wide open."

"Want him typed and cross matched. Want him on his own brand as soon as we can manage it!"

"Dammit! He's losing it as fast as we can put it in him!"

"Jeff, call OR and tell 'em we need a chest man and a room, yesterday!"

"Artery?"

"No doubt."

"What's his name, again?"

"David Starsky."

For the first time Hutch could hear one of the doctors trying to rouse Starsky.

"David," called the doctor in a loud voice. "Come on pal, wake up for me. Open your eyes, David."

No response.

"David, 'know you're in there. C'mon, stay with me buddy."

"Gotta' room and a cutter!"

"Let's move, people!"

Hutch watched in a surrealistic haze as the medical team hurriedly shoved the gurney down the hall toward the elevator, catching just a glimpse of Starsky's colorless face.

Hutch followed out into the hall. He could hear a doctor shout as they crammed into the elevator, "Get this thing going, we're losing him!"

Hutch stood alone in the middle of the hall - alone, shivering.

_How did this happen? We were just going to a ball game with Kiko and his friends. Now Starsky is on his way to surgery with a hole in his chest - put there with my gun._

Hutch couldn't move.

A hand on his shoulder startled him. "Where is he?" asked Captain Harold Dobey.

"They just took him up to surgery. He was bleeding to death," Hutch managed to choke out.

"C'mon son, let's go up and see what we can find out."

The waiting room off of the surgical suite was bustling with cops - several uniforms, a couple of detectives, Dobey, and a silent Hutch - sitting in a corner by himself.

Dan Hunt, one of the detectives made his way over to Hutch and squatted down in front of him.

"We're still looking for your little friend, and his friends. Forensics recovered your revolver. They found two sets of prints, yours and prints unknown. The prints unknown were small. We ran them through our files and came up empty. With the size of the prints and the fact that they didn't show up on file, we can make a pretty good guess that one of the kids fired the round."

Hutch wearily rubbed his hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Aw Dan, this can't be happening. You know how many perps would like to take a shot at my partner? Now it's looking more likely that a kid put a bullet in him - a bullet from my gun! And to make matters worse, a kid who has been my Little Brother for over two years now may be involved … hell, might even be the shooter."

Dan placed a soothing hand on Hutch's shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself, Hutch. Accidental shootings happen every day. **You** know that! That's what this is looking like - an accident, just a terrible accident."

"If you're trying to make me feel less guilty, it's not working." Hutch paused for a minute. "Dan, please find Kiko for me. Before he lost consciousness, Starsky said something like, 'Kiko, was so scared.'"

Dan stood, patting Hutch's arm. "We'll find him, Hutch."

"Please don't scare him. He's probably already terrified." Dan nodded in affirmation, as he moved away from Hutch. Hutch saw Dan gather up his partner and head for the elevator with the uniforms. Hutch had a lot of confidence in Dan Hunt and his partner Barry Freedman. He and Starsky both had a lot of respect for the older team, and they for them.

Hutch and Dobey sat silently for a while. Dobey broke the silence. "How long has it been?"

Checking his watch Hutch replied, "About four hours. I guess no news is good news."

"Sergeant Hutchinson?" Hutch glanced up to see a scrubs-clad doctor standing several feet away. He and Dobey jumped to their feet as the doctor extended his hand in a shake, "I'm Rick Michaels. I'm the surgeon who operated on David."

Shaking the doctor's hand, Hutch choked out in a near whisper, "How is he?"

"He's stable. It was kind of touch and go for a while. He was losing blood faster than we could pump it in. The bullet ripped an artery."

"How badly is he injured?"

"Look, let's have a seat," the doctor said gesturing toward the couch, "I'm beat!"

The two detectives listened intently as Michaels continued. "The bullet entered his chest just beneath the sternum - the breastbone. As I said, it nicked an artery on the way in. That's where most of the blood was coming from. It then came to rest in his left lung - which also contributed a great deal to the excessive bleeding. Prior to lodging in his lung, the bullet also creased the left ventricle of his heart. There's some severe bruising, but it doesn't look as though any permanent damage was done."

The doctor paused and shivered as he took a deep breath. "Your partner's a very lucky man. A quarter inch to the right and he'd have been dead when he hit the floor."

The three men fell silent.

The doctor continued, "The damage to his lung should heal fairly well. He's young and he's fit, so I don't anticipate any long-term problems. He's currently listed as critical, and we're moving him to Intensive Care, but I anticipate if everything continues to go well, we will be upgrading his condition within a day or two.

"Right now he's on a respirator - just to give a little assistance to that damaged lung. We should be able to transition him off within a day or so, as the lung begins to heal."

"I need to see him." Hutch said insistently.

"He probably won't be regaining consciousness for a while."

"I don't care. I just need to be there!"

Michaels and Dobey exchanged looks.

"Okay sergeant," Michaels agreed. "I'll talk with the charge nurse. The Intensive Care Unit is down at the end of the hall."

Hutch sprung to his feet and wasted no time in heading down the hall. "Thanks doctor. Thanks for everything!"

"Looks like they're pretty close," observed Michaels.

Dobey nodded an affirmation. "Partners and best friends for a long time."

Hutch was overwhelmed as he entered the small glassed-in room. His partner was deathly still and very pale. The only sounds in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor and the hissing of the respirator. They were sounds of life, Hutch reasoned.

He slowly made his way to the side of the bed. His partner's face, though ghostly-pale, registered a peaceful expression. Hutch reached down and brushed a hand gently through his partner's curls. He whispered, "I'm so sorry."

No response.

Hutch noticed a small chair near the corner of the room and he pulled it close to the bed and sat with his friend. Reaching in between the side rails of the bed, he took Starsky's hand, squeezing it gently.

Dobey quietly entered the room, walking over to stand next to where Hutch was sitting. "He looks so vulnerable."

"It's my fault, Cap."

"How do you figure?"

"I left the gun there - loaded."

Dobey furrowed his brow, putting a hand on Hutch's shoulder, "Hutchinson, you're a cop. You left your weapon in your home. You have to leave it somewhere."

"I knew those kids were coming over. How many times have we growled at parents about leaving loaded guns lying around? I should have kept the damn thing on."

"Coulda', shoulda', woulda', son, we can play that game all day. I've got kids too, you know. It would be real easy for me to have done the same thing. I probably have," Dobey tried to point out sympathetically. Dobey's gaze moved toward Starsky's face.

"Some kid is going to have to live with this for the rest of his life," mumbled Hutch.

"Hey," Dobey whispered barely audibly to get Hutch's attention, then nodded toward his partner. Hutch looked over at Starsky, whose eyes were now open ever so slightly.

Hutch leaned over the side rails. "Starsk," he whispered. "It's me, buddy."

Starsky's dark blue eyes opened wider to see his partner. His eyes reflected confusion, fear, and pain, and Hutch could see his friend's fear gradually intensify.

"Shhh, don't be afraid," Hutch said softly - cupping his friend's cheek. "You're going to be okay. The doctor said you lost a lot of blood and you have some internal injuries - but you're going to be fine."

Starsky's hand slowly reached for the respirator tube going down his throat, and Hutch intercepted the hand pulling it away, "No, no, no buddy, don't. The doctor said you'd need it for a day or two. One of your lungs was damaged, so they want to give you a little help breathing. It's okay. I know it's uncomfortable, but it has to stay, okay?" Starsky answered by lowering his hand. "Captain is here."

Dobey leaned forward, trying very hard to hide his concern and the inner pain at seeing one of his favorite detectives senselessly hurt. "Just try to relax, son. You're going to be fine. Just need to let yourself heal."

Starsky's eyes slowly closed and he was asleep once more.

Hutch, of course, was there for the night.

Hutch stood numbly in line with Huggy in the hospital cafeteria the next morning. "I don't know why we're here. I don't want any breakfast."

"Man, you have been here all night. God knows when you ate last. You can't help Starsk, unless you keep it together yourself. So you need some black, hot, coffee and something to stick to your ribs." Huggy said, insisting that Hutch comply.

The two sat down with their food and were soon joined by Dan Hunt and Barry Freedman, still investigating Starsky's shooting.

"What'cha got," Hutch eagerly asked.

"Enough." said Dan. "We talked with Mrs. Ramos this morning. She'd filed a missing child report last night, when she couldn't get in touch with you. Kiko's been missing since last evening. He never came home."

"Damn!" Hutch was distraught at hearing this.

Barry finished, "We put out an APB. She also gave us a few names of some of the kids he's been hanging around with. We went to their school and talked to them. We found two of them who were at your place last night."

"And …" Hutch asked with a quake in his voice.

Dan bit his lip nervously as he finished the bad news. "Hutch, Kiko shot Starsky."

"I gotta' find him, Hug. He's probably scared to death."

"We're still looking for him, Hutch. We haven't given up. Every black and white on the street has his picture." Dan said, trying to console the distraught detective.

"Look, he's been my Little Brother for a couple of years now, I know a little more about him than you guys. You mind some help?"

"Not at all." Dan admitted that help would be more than welcome.

"Hug, would you stay with Starsky?"

"You gotta' ask?"

Hutch reached over and gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, "C'mon guys, let's hit it!"

Huggy watched as the three detectives hurriedly left. Reaching over, he pulled Hutch's untouched plate near his and scraped the scrambled eggs into his own plate. "When are you going to learn, Blondie, that eggs don't grow on trees?"

Hutch pulled the LTD up in front of the Ramos house. His stomach was tied in knots. He was worried about Starsky and Kiko all at the same time. His partner was still not out of the woods … and his little brother was God knows where, and in God knows what condition. Hutch was certain that Kiko was terrified that he'd killed his partner.

Almost did.

He knocked on the door and was met by a very distraught Mrs. Ramos, rambling excitedly in Spanish. "Hutch! Donde esta mi chico. Please."

"Easy Maria. Take it easy, honey. Let's sit down," Hutch said quietly, leading her to the couch.

"The officers who were here before, they said Kiko shot David. He wouldn't do that Hutch. He's a good boy. He loves you and David too."

"I know that. Maria, it was an accident. Kiko didn't intentionally shoot Starsky. It was just an accident. Now calm down for me, sweetheart." He put a soothing arm around her shoulder.

"Where could he be?"

"We'll find him. I promise. He'll be okay. I was hoping you could give me an idea of where he could be hiding. Is there anywhere he would go that you might know of that I don't?"

"None that I know of - he's either here, at school, or with you."

Hutch ran a hand across his tense face, "Just need to keep looking." After a brief pause to think, Hutch gave Maria's hand a squeeze. "If Kiko calls, tell him that Starsky is going to be all right. Tell him he needs to get in touch with me. Tell him I'm not angry. I just want him back safely. But most of all, make him understand that Starsky is going to be okay."

Maria nodded.

Standing to leave, Hutch leaned over and gave Maria a soft kiss on the forehead. "You call me if you hear anything. If he contacts me, I'll call you. Try not to worry Maria, we'll find him."

Huggy sat quietly watching his sleeping friend breathe with the aid of the respirator. It seemed way too often that he'd seen one or the other of these men injured, in pain, and far too often, it was just too close for comfort. He deeply admired their relationship and was grateful to be a party to it.

Huggy had always had a precarious relationship with the law, but David Starsky and Kenneth Hutchinson were different. They knew that Huggy wasn't as pure as the driven snow, but they also knew that he was a decent, hardworking man who had a heart of gold and would do just about anything to help them keep the streets safe.

Huggy scoffed at the idea of hero worship, but he couldn't deny his admiration, affection, and respect for his two friends. They were all about as different as could be. Hutch was Lutheran, Starsky was Jewish, and Huggy was Baptist. Hutch grew up wealthy in Minnesota, Starsky spent most of his formative years in lower middle class Brooklyn, and Huggy grew up poor in South Central. Hutch was college educated; Starsky and Huggy finished high school. But they were all brothers. That overrode any differences.

A noise at the door drew his attention away from his thoughts as he saw Captain Dobey enter the room with Freddy, Mike, and Sam - the three boys who had been with Kiko when Starsky was shot, as well as Sgt. Jane Perkowitz, a juvenile officer, and Dr. Michaels, the surgeon who had saved Starsky's life.

Perkowitz and Michaels escorted the boys closer to the bed.

"What's going on," Huggy whispered to Dobey.

"A little shock therapy. These kids need to see what happens when you play with guns," said Dobey somberly. The two listened quietly as Perkowitz and Michaels took over.

"The extent of Sergeant Starsky's injuries was fairly severe. He came very close to bleeding to death. Another minute or two of inattention and he would have probably been found dead," began Perkowitz.

"What's the tube in his throat?" asked Sam.

"The bullet entered the officer's chest, and after rupturing an artery, it grazed his heart and came to rest in one of his lungs. The tube is helping him to breathe while the damaged lung begins to heal," Michaels explained. "It's very uncomfortable. That's why we're keeping him sedated or asleep right now. He can't eat, can't drink, and can't talk while it's in his throat. But it's necessary if his lung is going to heal properly. Once we take it out, he may continue to experience pain in his throat for several days … sort of like the worst sore throat you've ever had. Talking and swallowing may be painful for several days."

Mike looked somberly at the man lying before him. "So it's just the tube that hurts."

"I didn't say that," snapped Michaels, quickly recovering his cool. "How many of you have been in your kitchen at home and maybe while cutting an apple, you cut you finger a little bit?"

All three boys nodded.

"In order to repair the damage to Detective Starsky's lung and artery, we had to cut into his chest." Michaels walked the boys closer and slowly pulled the blanket down to Starsky's waist, pulling up the white hospital gown to get to the wound. He gently lifted the large gauze bandage away from the incision. A look of shock and sickness overtook the boys as they stared at the large, still red and bloodied incision and the entry wound next to it. "You know how much that little cut in the finger hurts. This hurts much more. In answer to your question, yes the tube hurts; but having a piece of metal propelled into your body and then having a surgeon cut into your body to repair the damage hurts a hell of a lot more. When he's fully awake he's in great deal of pain. We try to keep it to a minimum, but there's only so much medicine we can give him for pain before it becomes dangerous. So, he just has to live with it."

The boys stood still and somber as the doctor replaced the bandage and covered his patient. A quiet moan came as Starsky opened his eyes to spot the doctor standing above him.

"Hi David, you have some visitors."

His eyes wandered drowsily toward the boys, then suddenly pinched closed in pain.

"Sorry. Are you in a lot of pain?" Michael asked.

Starsky nodded affirmatively.

"I'll check your chart and see if we can give you something. Try to get some sleep, okay? I'll be back a little later to check on you." Starsky slowly nodded again fading into sleep.

After a few long minutes of silence, Michaels turned to the boys. "You guys got any questions?"

Not shifting his glance from the detective's face, Freddy asked in a trembling voice, "Is he gonna' live?"

"He's going to be okay - but it's going to take time."

"Boys," began Perkowitz, "I think we'd better be going. We want to let Dr. Michaels get back to his work and let Sergeant Starsky get some more rest. Come along." As Perkowitz herded the boys out of the room, she and Dobey exchanged winks.

Dobey extended a hand to the surgeon. "Thank you. We thought it was important for them to see what can happen, and what happens to the victim."

"No sweat," smiled Michaels. "You're doing me a favor too. Nothing makes me sicker than to see an otherwise perfectly healthy body violated and traumatized by a bullet."

After a few moments Huggy took a deep breath. "Wow! Don't see those boys bothering with guns any time in their near future."

"Hope not," said Dobey quietly.

The small figure stirred fretfully on the couch in Starsky's apartment.

Kiko was having another nightmare.

_The man who he knew, next to Hutch, he could depend on and trust more than anyone else was lying on the floor of Hutch's apartment, blood pouring from a gaping hole in his chest. Dark blue eyes pleading for help. "Kiko help me, please. G-Get Hutch!"_

"No Oh God no" the small figure moaned in his sleep.

_Kiko was running down an alley. Running from sirens running from policemen screaming, "Cop killer! Get that cop killer!" Kiko stopped in his tracks - a grisly visage stood before him. Starsky covered in his own blood his face corpse white. His bloody hand reaching out toward the youngster, his face contorted in pain and sadness. "Why Kiko? I thought I was your friend. Why?"_

The boy lurched upright on the couch, screaming in terror. "Starsky!" The boy twisted around on the couch finally realizing where he was.

Starsky's apartment.

It was the only place he could think of where they probably wouldn't look for him, and he knew how to get in. Hutch had always told him that if he needed someone and he couldn't find him he could go to Starsky. The key was under the mat. Starsky had as much told Kiko the same.

His startled vision wandered around the apartment trying to get his bearings coming to rest on a framed picture of the partners. It was the police department 5K-run to benefit Big Brothers-Big Sisters. The two stood sweaty but smiling in their running gear. Neither won, but Hutch came in a respectable third place and Starsky eighth out of a couple hundred runners. Kiko smiled at remembering Hutch saying that Starsky would have probably beat him had he not seen fit to strike up a conversation at every water station with the water girls.

Kiko's smile faded quickly, followed by tears. Kiko carefully reached over and picked up the phone, dialing the operator.

"Could you give me the police department, please?" After a few moments of waiting, Kiko's voice trembled into the phone. "I need to speak to the officer in charge of the David Starsky shooting"

Hutch had arrived back at Starsky's room later that afternoon to relieve Huggy who was needed back at The Pits. Hunt and Freedman insisted that Hutch be with his partner, promising that they would find his little friend. He knew they were one of the best teams in the department.

_Second only to me and thee._

A sly grin appeared on his face at that thought. He trusted that they would make good on their promise.

He curled up in the chair next to the bed. He was grateful that they'd replaced the small uncomfortable visitors chair with this more comfortable chair that was padded and would recline. Hutch smiled briefly remembering a conversation he'd had the evening before with the doctor.

_Guess I can't persuade you to go home and get some rest? _

_Nope _

_I suppose you're going to be here for the long haul _

_Yep _

_I'll see what I can do about getting you a better chair. The last thing I need is a new patient with a back problem._

A moan from the bed drew his attention to his partner who was now awake.

"Hey buddy how're you doing?"

Starsky made a 'writing' motion with his hand.

Hutch glanced around retrieving a small pad and pencil from the nightstand and handed it to his partner.

Starsky slowly wrote:

_Lousy._

Hutch tried hard to hold back a chuckle. "I know it hurts, pal. The doctor said he was going to try to remove the respirator tomorrow. That should help a little. Your chest is probably still going to hurt like hell, though."

Starsky gave him a frown and wrote:

_Any more good news?_

This time Hutch didn't hold back his chuckle. The mirth quickly faded and Hutch's expression became one of deep pain and sadness. He glanced up at his partner whose expression was asking him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Starsk. This is all my fault."

Starsky's expression changed to one of confusion. He shook his head, not understanding.

"I left my gun in the apartment … fully loaded. I knew the kids were coming. I just didn't think." After a brief pause and a deep breath, Hutch choked, "God, you could've been killed."

Starsky moaned and shook his head no.

"It was close, buddy. The doctor said another couple minutes and you would have bled to death."

Starsky reached for the pad again.

_But I didn't. Quit kicking yourself._

Hutch reached over and gently patted his arm. "Starsk, was it Kiko who shot you?"

The curly head nodded yes, and Starsky quickly went for the pad again.

_Accident!_

"I know - let me guess - they were playing with my gun and it went off?"

Starsky nodded yes and wrote again.

_Kiko was so scared … he okay?_

"He ran away, we're still looking for him."

A distraught frown appeared on Starsky's face. "We'll find him. You just calm down and get some rest so we can get that tube out of your throat. I hate not hearing your annoying voice!"

A faint smile appeared in Starsky's eyes as they slowly fluttered closed.

Hutch had dozed off in the chair, when a small hand on his shoulder woke him. Standing there was Kiko along with Dan Hunt and Barry Freedman.

"Hey!" Hutch said softly pulling the tearful boy into his arms.

"He called us and told us where to find him," Dan said softly as to not awaken the patient.

"He was camped out at Starsky's house," Barry added.

"I'm sorry Hutch. I didn't mean to shoot him. The gun just went off," Kiko cried into his big brother's shoulder.

"I know, pal," Hutch soothed patting his back. "You call his mom?" he asked the detectives.

Dan nodded yes. "We need to get back to the station to finish up the paperwork … accidental shooting - no charges recommended!"

Hutch nodded yes, still clutching the child. "A mistake's been made and the lesson's been learned. Thanks guys."

Dan gave him a pat on the arm and the two detectives left.

Hutch pulled Kiko back so he could look him in the face. "Are you okay?"

The boy nodded wiping at his tears. "I was so afraid. He looked up at me and asked me for help. I didn't know what to do, Hutch. He was dying and I didn't know what to do. I ran. I was so scared."

Hutch gently stroked the child's wayward hair from his forehead. "How'd you end up at Starsky's house?"

"He told me one time, that if I was ever in trouble and I couldn't find you or I couldn't go home, I could come to his house. He hides a key under the mat."

Hutch couldn't help but smile, "Yeah."

A slight moan pulled their attention in the direction of a bed. Starsky's eyes were half open watching the reunion.

"Hey, Starsk, look who's here," Hutch said softly.

The boy slowly made his way over to the bed. Sniffing back tears he leaned over the bed rail. Dark blue eyes met brown eyes, neither pair dry. Starsky lifted his hand to cup the boy's cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear.

After a few moments of silent understanding, Starsky grimaced in pain - his breathing becoming labored.

"Starsky, what's wrong?" Kiko asked panic stricken.

"Starsk what is it?" Hutch stepped forward concerned, as his partner grasped at his chest in pain, his breathing becoming more labored and erratic. Suddenly the machine monitoring Starsky's heart let out an ear-piercing squeal. Hutch grabbed Kiko and turned toward the door to be met by Michaels and other members of the medical team.

Hutch flattened himself and Kiko against the wall, watching as the medical staff began to assess the problem. "What is it?" Hutch shouted.

"He's in V-fib. Looks like that little graze of the heart muscle has come back to haunt us," said Michaels to no one in particular. "Get a crash cart in here, stat!"

One of the nurses ran to comply as the rest of the staff lowered the side rails and flattened the bed.

"David." Michaels spoke loudly and clearly. "David, look at me." A panicked look met the doctor's request.

"David, you're in ventricular fibrillation. A part of your heart has stopped beating properly. I need for you to try and cough."

A very weak cough came out.

"I know it's hard with the tube, but you have to try harder. Cough harder."

Starsky tried unsuccessfully to do what Michaels asked.

"Try it again. Cough dammit!"

A quickly weakening Starsky couldn't comply.

"It's not working," called one of the medical team, a sense of urgency in her voice, as the crash cart was rolled in from the hall.

"David, we're going to have to give you a shock. It's the only way we can possibly bring the heart back into a normal rhythm."

Starsky nodded slightly understanding the situation. His eyes started to close as he began to lose consciousness.

"David, c'mon pal. Stay with me."

Hutch stood - back pressed to the wall; eyes full of fear and clutching Kiko, who had buried his face into the detective's chest, trying to escape from the horror of what he was seeing.

Working quickly, the medical staff readied Starsky, pulling down the hospital gown, disconnecting the tube from the respirator, and preparing the paddles. Taking the paddles, Michaels said, "Okay, give me 200 watts." The doctor turned his attention to Starsky. "Hang on David, it's going to hurt like hell." He placed the paddles on Starsky's chest.

Hutch closed his eyes tightly.

"Clear!"

Starsky's body jolted as the charge coursed through him - a mournful whimper coming from deep in his throat.

The doctors stood momentarily watching the monitor, the alarm still sounding, as the doctor assisting stated, "no conversion."

"Damn," growled Michaels. "David, we're going to have to try it again." Barely conscious, Starsky gave a small nod.

"You want 400 watts?" asked a nurse.

"No, not unless we have to."

"200 watts."

"Clear."

The electrical charge hit Starsky again, and he lost consciousness.

The doctors watched the monitor closely as the alarm silenced itself.

"Okay, we got normal sinus rhythm. Get him back on the vent," Michaels directed to one of the nurses. Gently placing his fingers on Starsky's throat he felt for the present pulse. Michaels thanked the other doctor for his assistance, and walked wearily over to where Hutch and Kiko still stood.

"What happened?" Hutch asked, his voice still shaky.

"Like I told you earlier. The bullet grazed his left ventricle, probably bruised the hell out of it. Sometimes injuries like that are enough to cause what you just saw."

Hutch swallowed, "Are you saying his heart is permanently damaged?"

"No, not at all. Once the bruising clears up and he recovers from the initial trauma, chances are good this will never happen again. I'll want to run some more tests before he leaves the hospital, but he should be okay."

As the doctor started for the door, Hutch extended a hand of thanks. He and Kiko stood quietly for a long while, the boy's face still pressed against him.

"Kiko," he whispered. "He's going to be okay."

Hutch guided the traumatized youth out of the room and took him home to his mom.

Several days had passed and Starsky continued to improve. He was off of the ventilator and the doctor was satisfied that the problem he'd had with his heart was an isolated occurrence and probably wouldn't repeat itself.

Hutch took on some desk duty to keep their cases moving along until his partner was able to return to work. He would check on Starsky in the morning before going on duty and spend some time with him after work. And of course, the better Starsky began to feel, the more he hated being in the hospital.

He was mindlessly channel surfing from soap to soap while a small figure stood watching at his door. His attention was drawn to Kiko after a few moments.

"Hi Kiko," he smiled warmly. "Come on in."

The youth entered the room hesitantly. One hand held behind his back, he drew a small bunch of flowers in front of him and walked toward the bed.

Starsky noticed how young and small he looked as Kiko handed the flowers to him.

"Thanks Kiko, these are very nice," Starsky said as he pulled his tray table closer and sunk the stems of the wild flowers into a pitcher of water. "I like these."

After a long silence, the boy's voice cracked out, "I'm sorry. I don't know if that helps, but I'm really sorry I hurt you."

Starsky closed his eyes for a few seconds, swallowing hard and trying not to lose it. "You made a mistake, and you learned a lesson, and I forgive you. Case closed. 'kay?"

Both of them were now blinking back tears, and Starsky drew him into a warm embrace, knowing that everything was going to be okay.

Neither of them noticed the figure standing at the door. Hutch drew himself back out of sight, swallowing back the love and forgiveness he saw before him.

_**End**_


End file.
